Fatherhood Eve

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Your Secrets

He lied. He looked at you with big, open eyes and spat that thing right in front of you. You knew it was a lie, but you forced a fancy smile and tried to still the brain spin. He couldn't take back the lie and you couldn't take back that huckster smile. And you both accepted that you'd live with it, never admitting what you knew.

It all started so many years ago. Fighting the current is hard, so you stopped. People asked you if you liked this movie or that song, and you just nodded and smiled. You wanted to get closer in, inside where it matters; you didn't realize the power of the omitted lies.

You could trace it back days, years, lifetimes, eons - this shit ain't nothing new. Dinosaurs didn't trip, but they had tiny brains. They sure fell, though.

You think about dinosaurs because that's your secret. The real secret. The one you don't even recognize yourself. It exists in you, but outside your awareness. You are waiting for a comet, an asteroid. Something that will cover the earth in dust and dirt, burying all the secrets forever. One fell swoop.